


Paint

by Fluffinson (orphan_account)



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse, Fat Annie - Freeform, M/M, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-30 04:01:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10868649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Fluffinson
Summary: Alone, without The Get Down Brothers, Shaolin can only express himself through pictures on the back of burned out buildings.Zeke sees. And Shaolin had forgotten that he was one of the boys who used to look up to him, study his work for hours.





	Paint

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this turned out alright, I sort of lost steam by the end.

 

 

Shaolin is soft. Useless.

And he doesn't know what he was fucking thinking - hanging out with those _kids_. Only no one else his own age wants him. Knows enough to stay away from a soul sucker like him. Fucking stupid, fucking stupid of him. Hanging out with _children_. Like a fucking _loser_.

"Mmm, my delicate boy." Fat Annie murmurs.

He wonders what it is about him that makes Annie unable to let go of him, what it is that makes everyone else turn away.

The only place he's wanted is between Annie's thighs.

He doesn't cry anymore, at least.

 

 

His growth is stunted. He always grew real slow. From malnutrition, from abuse. It doesn't really matter. And Curtis has seen a lot of people, big motherfuckers, who have been hurt and abused. He doesn't know why he can't be like them. Why he has to be defective.

 

 

Shao writes. It's one of the things Annie still lets him do.

He doesn't tag.

There's no fire works or colors.

Just black and blue. He's never been good with words. He lets the paint bleed out at the edges. It's a hand, a giant hand and he knows exactly whose it is. A giant hand reaching down, plucking up a little boy. Angel dust in the negative space.

 

 

He wonders where Napoleon went, afterwards.

He knows where all of the Kipling brothers went, knows where Books went.

The last time he'd seen Napoleon the boy was crouched in the corner, trying hard to disappear so Annie didn't see him. He's the only reason Shao's alive. If he hadn't been so focused on getting Annie out of there - of getting her _away_ from the boy who's brother she killed he knows he would have fought harder. Would have made her kill him on the bad bet that she wouldn't bother with Ezekiel or the others once he was dead.

When Shao finally makes his way back there though he's gone. Most everything is gone - has been scavenged through, only garbage and litter remaining. The dead kitten in the bag isn't there anymore and it only takes a little looking until he finds it's homemade grave.

He takes that as a sign the boy made it.

 

 

It's around the time Annie starts something else that he adds red to the mix. A bright red like blood. The little boy is huddled in on himself this time, in a corner of a wall where he'll go unnoticed, unsigned. His heart shot through.

And he always knew it would fucking spell trouble when she'd given him that look, called Ezekiel Figuero his little boyfriend.

_He's not my fucking boyfriend._

It's Annie's, belongs to Annie, another extension of herself with which to injure him.

"You a soft little faggot huh?" Annie says, strokes the plastic sex toy she's just had inside herself down his face.

He's ashamed at the way his heart starts to pound in fear. She's taken everything from him already. 

 _He's not my fucking boyfriend._ He says it over and over.

 _He's not my fucking boyfriend. He's not my fucking boyfriend._ Until he can't breathe.

But she doesn't believe him.

She takes things from him now he didn't even know were possible to give.

 

 

The real reason he changed his name is that Curtis was too dirty, too bruised and after Annie touched him it took him forever to get the hang of _it_ , to do it right.

Annie is a woman, Shaolin Fantastic is a man. Curtis is a boy who cries during sex.

He had wanted to be what Annie said he was. A big strong man with a big strong appetite. Someone who doesn't break. Is a natural. Can love her the way she deserves.

It sickens him now, to think at one point he wanted it. It helps that he can see it in Cadillac too. Especially during the intervening years when he'd gotten too old for her. That urge to want her to love you. Back when they were kids - and Curtis had been 12, Clarence was only 16 and she'd told Clarence he was too old then so why is she so _stuck_ on him-

He hates that he wanted her to love him.

She's never loved him the way he wants to be loved anyway.

And _Books_ \- is a thought too painful for words. Shao thinks it's the closest he's ever gotten to being loved. And the knowledge almost destroys him.

It isn't personal, Books is just like that. Overflowing with love. But he's fickle - but no, Curtis deserves it. Deserves to be shut out in the cold. He knew he shouldn't have put Boo on. He knew it even as he was doing it. Chino be damned. 

Not just Boo, other kids. Other kids who run for him and he'd told himself it was safer because he keeps them out of Annie's sight. Books - and he has no right to use that familiar nickname - is right about him.

 

 

When Annie had first found him she wouldn't stop staring. She gave him milk and cookies. He liked that her eyes rested on him, because he'd been invisible for so long.

 

 

He finds some colors. Abandoned during a get away.

He wishes the police would arrest him, but he isn't that lucky.

There's vivid greens and fuchsia and bright taxi yellow, soft blues and violet. Shaolin paints the most beautiful thing he's ever painted.

Sharp flowers and crisp leaves, paradise.

It almost seems to dance and it's not a coincidence he's thinking of Ezekiel when he paints it.

Then he paints a black gate and there's that same boy sitting outside of it, locked out.

 

 

He doesn't think it can get worse, but it gets worse.

 

 

Napoleon.

 

 

He can't be Shaolin anymore. The bravado's not there. The entitlement to something better's not there. Ezekiel's not there.

 

 

It's probably time to move on to another name. The most popular one Annie uses now is Bitch. He hates the way she hisses it at him, like it's a term of endearment. He paints his boy - himself - in the corner. He uses the full red can of spray paint until there's nothing left. It's make him feel better, to see blood soaking beneath the two dimensional figure. Beneath himself, where the blood should have been in the first place.

 

 

He doesn't know if he can smile anymore. He thinks he can't. He tries it in the mirror in Annie's bathroom. 

Scares himself.

 

 

When Christmas break comes for the school kids he doesn't go outside at all. Hides in Annie's room at Les Inferno. She makes him put his head in her lap, pets it. It's almost nice, before her fingers tighten in his hair and put his face somewhere else.

She tells him that's his present.

 

 

After Christmas break he happens by the wall where the boy sits in blood. There's such a badly drawn stick figure intruding on the scene that he almost laughs. 

Or at least - some kind of noise escapes his throat.

He has to close his eyes tightly for a second. The stick figure's laying an impossibly long arm on the boy's shoulder. Is frowning, eyebrows like crescents above the dots of eyes.

He goes to the reaching hand next.  

And there it is again - a ridiculous little stick figure holding a pitchfork, knees bent, warding off the hand.

Another boy, another stick figure embracing him in a badly drawn hug. Stick hand over his bleeding heart.

He goes to the paradise gates last. He denies his heart falls when there's nothing there.

It's ridiculous to think it's who he wants it to be. Still, it almost makes him cry - and he shakes that off fucking  _quick_ \- to think that someone out there is thinking about him. 

 

 

He doesn't write after that. 

Even if he wanted some kind of connection Curtis fucks everything up always anyway. The poison in him spreads to everything it touches.

He takes his licks from Annie, day in and day out. He refuses to run for her when she asks. He wishes she would just kill him but she doesn't. Just laughs and tells him his talents will be used _other_ places.

Cadillac's second in command steps up. Curtis feels glad for Clarence, that he doesn't come back. There's something bitter in the back of his throat though, and it maybe has to do with the fact he didn't come back for _him_. That he isn't Curtis' brother, doesn't care.

He's aware it's fucking stupid - to think that anyone would come back for him. Definitely not Cadillac. Not the fucking Kipling Brothers and certainly not Ezekiel.

But Clarence - 

Curtis remembers stepping in for him. Because he thought it was so much worse for Clarence, because Annie was his actual mom. Cadillac doesn't see it like that though. He only sees a homeless orphan hood rat who slithered his way into his mom's good graces.

Taking Clarence's place. It's the last altruistic thing he's ever consciously done for someone. It didn't work maybe, wasn't appreciated - because it's like how everyone says - he's only good at taking care of himself.

And he isn't even good at that.

 

  

He wishes he weren't such a fuck up. 

He's lucky he's not a fucking junkie. He would be, if Annie hadn't decided to try and make him work for the drugs, run them in exchange for a taste. He might have done it, if it had only been servicing her.

He hates himself _so fucking much_.

Ezekiel hates drugs. More accurately, he hates dealers - pushers and so Curtis won't be. It's not because he thinks Ezekiel will come back. He knows he won't. It's because he knows he's right. 

Over February break Curtis stuffs himself into a cupboard. Annie thunders around, looking for him, but she doesn't find him. And he's safe from outside.

The day the break is over he goes to look.

His heart flutters.

The paradise gate is badly redrawn, a mismatched green blotting out the black bars so it appears to be open - just a bit. Break the Locks, is written in big block letters above. The stick figure is better drawn, practiced. It has a fluffy Afro, it's reaching out with a welcoming hand to the boy, muted smile on its face.

It can't be Ezekiel.

He tells himself that over and over.

Even if it is, he's so _broken_ he just can't - he can't let Ezekiel see him and _know_. His street cred is gone, Shaolin is gone.

He'd told him, trusted Ezekiel enough to look him in the eye and admit,  _She took everything from me since I was a kid._

Ezekiel hadn't blinked, had taken it in stride. And it had to be because he just didn't care.

 

 

It's a sob story when Curtis thinks about it. Maybe he's lucky Ezekiel has such high standards, like his Butterscotch Queen, or he might just have laughed in his face and told him to be grateful for _any_ sex.

The thought makes him angry somehow.

He's been working at getting it up, only because the times when he doesn't Annie doesn't just let him use his mouth or his fingers anymore.

It's a lost cause though.

The next time he's under her he's still thinking about Zeke, is still angry - outraged almost. Usually he welcomes any distraction, especially during the times she uses her toys on him. Something crosses in his brain though and the end result is that he just ends up hating himself even more. Feels as disgusting as the absolute first time.

Because he's thinking of Zeke and she's in him but he isn't seeing her. Instead he - and it's too awful. Feels like a betrayal. Like he's sullied something that was pure and beautiful.

He cries in the bathroom afterwards, Annie's still laughing in the bedroom, and it's a good thing he's never going to see Ezekiel again because he could never look him in the face after that anyhow.

 

 

He's passing by, doesn't expect to see anything new but there's words scrawled above the boy and his stick figure.

_Where are you?_

He literally shakes in his boots, trembles, goes cold at the sight. Summer break isn't for another week.

He knows that, but he can't help but feel hunted.

He doesn't know how he's going to stay out of sight.

But he's managed to avoid the Kipling Brothers so far, through combined effort on both their parts he thinks, so he imagines it's possible.

The point is probably moot anyway. He'd heard Mylene was out in LA. And wherever she is, Zeke isn't far behind.

 

 

When he gets the chance - the nerve - he goes back with a can of black paint. Massacres everything he ever wrote.

 

 

Miraculously a thought occurs to him. Even if it is Ezekiel - it's impossible for Ezekiel to know it's him. How could he? The whole style of it is different. The colors are different, there's no words. 

The thought nearly disappoints him. 

_Break the Locks._

It's not inconceivable that it's a coincidence.

 

 

He hides until Annie gets sick of seeing him in the place. A month has gone by without him seeing the sun.

She takes the opportunity to use him more but it's only so long before she tires of it.

It's never happened before.

He wonders if it's a matter of time before she tires of him altogether, then decides it's just that even Annie can't be turned on all the time.

"Get the fuck out of here." She snaps, irritation in her voice, "And don't you even think of hiding in that fucking cupboard sugar."

She'd found him in it, last week. He turns to go and then he turns back.

Almost asks her if she's sure that he can't stay a little longer, even if she just wants to use him. It makes him feel a little sick. She must see his look because she reels him back in.

"Come here baby, give mama a kiss before you go." She says amicably. He does. She pats him. "Good boy, you be back before night fall."

 

 

Suddenly, on the street, he feels hyper aware of how he looks. He hunches in on himself, keeps his head down. His hair at least, isn't a mess. Annie insists on a barber. She insists on a manicurist and a beautician too. He's clean shaven now because she likes that it makes him look young.

He doesn't think he looks young. He looks haggard. Thinks anyone who looks at him can see the amount of use on him. It's a miracle he doesn't run into anyone who knows him. Wonders if it's because he's unrecognizable, a ghostly shell that pales next to what used to be Shaolin Fantastic.

Because Annie doesn't insist on clothes he doesn't have anything new or that fits really right. She's ruined the clothes she got him in. His bright Shaolin Fantastic red disguise. All that's left are Curtis' old clothes from when he was fifteen and the things Cadillac never sent for. Curtis' clothes are really old, out of fashion, worn thin and a little tight. He wouldn't have worn them but he couldn't make himself step foot in Cadillac's room.

He finds an empty building to squat in. It doesn't have running water. He hasn't brought anything with him and once he's there he finds himself paralyzed.

He knows Annie will be mad if he's not back by nightfall but he isn't sure he can make himself move. Isn't sure he can make himself cross the neighborhood again now that he's made it across once.

It feels cold, impossibly, and he hasn't brought a jacket. 

He sits in the corner until it's so dark he can't see his hand in front of his face. He thinks it's safe to go back then.

 

 

 Annie gives him a split lip.

"What was you doing? Trying to punish me? Boy I know you heard me when I said be back before night fall. You done brought this on yourself."

She beats on him a little, and then wraps him in her arms afterward to comfort him. He knows this game though, and he doesn't feel grateful this time. 

 

 

Maybe it's because the last time he escaped recognition he mistakenly feels it's a little safer to venture out. There's only a few weeks left of summer break anyway. He'd tried to leave in Curtis' clothes but Annie had stopped him. 

_Mama loves those tight little shorts but she don't want you walking around in them, you know Mama jealous._

So she's went and got some of Cadillac's clothes that Curtis couldn't get himself. The shirt is a crisp white, disco style number with large lapels and a front that doesn't button, extends down in a large V. It's too big though so it sort of drapes and he can wrap it around himself a little so it's not so open. The pants have to be rolled and they look fucking ridiculous but Curtis can't bring himself to care.

It's hot out and he rolls his sleeves up before he leaves the club.

Wonders what he will do with the five dollars Annie's gifted him. It's all he's gotten, since he doesn't work for Annie, and he'd been tempted to throw it back in her face.

_Are you okay?_

jumps out at him from the black pool of spray on the wall. 

_Are you okay? Where are you? Are you okay?_

The paint is older for some phrases. 

It hardly fucking matters, the message can't be for him. If anyone recognized his work - and how _could_ they he never even did drawings before that - it would be Dizzy. And the stick figures? the desperate little messages? 

That's not Dizzy's style. Not Zeke's either.

And maybe it's someone who just admired the artistry, wants to make sure he's okay.

But he's too old to believe in shit like that anymore.

 

 

He sees them before they see him.

They're laughing on some steps - and they don't even fucking _live_ here Curtis knows that for damn sure. Mylene is there, with her soul Madonnas, head thrown back in laughter and Zeke bends down to kiss her. Boo's out - of course, Annie had promised he would be - and Ra is there with his girl. Dizzy is absent, but then it's not like that's uncommon.

He freezes, and of course that's when Ezekiel sees him. It's not even been a year but he looks older. Less lanky, scratchy stubble and a deer in headlights expression.

He turns, tries not to run, just casually walk away. Nervously runs his tongue across his split lip. It's almost healed, barely noticeable - is what he tells himself.

"Hey!"

He stops. Zeke's voice stops him.

And there it is. It wasn't gone after all. That thing inside him that makes him perform - as if to say 'Look at me I am not damaged'. The thing that helps him fake the illusion of strength.

When he turns back to them they haven't even shifted a little. He doesn't know what he expected, it's not like any of them were gonna come after him.

He tips his head, nods at them. _Can't_ look at Zeke.

"Hey" he says back and then turns to leave in the same direction he came.

"Shao," and the name sounds foreign from disuse, fantastical and just fucking _stupid_. "Where you been at?"

Zeke sounds hesitant and a little soft. It's out of place, different from his usual bit of aggression.

He shrugs. Avoids looking at Zeke's face.

"Wait!" Boo calls when he starts to leave again.

"What?" he asks shortly. Boo leaves the steps to approach him, but he stops a few steps short.

"Don't leave. Come hang or - you know, I'll come to you. I don't even know where you are anymore. Your place is gone."

It stumps him, that Boo wants to see him again. But then maybe that's why he's always liked the kid, Boo likes him and doesn't bother to hide the fact.

When it's been too long that he hasn't spoken Boo starts in again, "It doesn't have to be today. We'll be here tomorrow, same place same time."

Boo's always understood him in a way the others failed to, so it isn't really surprising he offers an alternative that Curtis might be able to accept. He's almost shocked that Mylene has nothing to say to him.

 

 

He knows he shouldn't go. And he almost doesn't. It's two hours past the time Boo said they'd be there and he goes just to prove maybe that they're not still there. Annie's too distracted to kiss him on his way out the door.

He's wearing the same thing because he still can't go in that fucking room. 

This time it's just Boo, Ra, Zeke and Mylene. She's tucked against Zeke and he's gripping her hand, like he's drawing strength from her.

His own hands sweat when he approaches, and he hates the way his steps must look hesitant, but Boo just waves him over - smile wide on his face. Curtis wants to return it, but he doesn't want to freak everyone the fuck out. 

He'd bought a pack of cigarettes with Annie's money, and lights one with a match. Tries to look more like they remember him. He doesn't sit on the steps with them. Stays standing by the rail even though they make space beside Ezekiel.

"Boo-" he says, wants to say or means to say _I'm glad you're out_ , but can't manage it. And everyone is so fucking quiet and he knows it looks like words are stuck in his throat and he knows this was a bad idea. He knows Annie would have something to say if she knew where he was sneaking off to.

"Shao, man, I missed you. You've missed some crazy shit." Boo's enthusiastic, bulldozing through the awkwardness.

"Oh?" he says, tries to sound not bland, not dead inside. It works, because he'd sounded that way before too. It's a little surprising, that he's able to go back to that at all.

"Yeah man. And oh - I've fucking missed your spins. Shit - I have a few new records you gotta spin."

"I-" it doesn't come out, he tries again, "I don't spin no more."

Mylene rolls her eyes, "Good. You sounded like trash anyway."

It hurts, and he should pretend it doesn't. He knows he should say something, lash out in anger or something, but he just shrugs. He loved the music. At one point it'd been everything to him. Until Zeke's words. And he'd tried so hard after they came to make everyone see that they needed him too. 

Zeke was always right - his words were the real show.

Zeke is running his free hand across his jeans nervously, absent minded as if he didn't hear Mylene. He looks nervous when Curtis chances a glance at him. Curtis can't help that his own eyes skitter away, as he thinks briefly about that time with Annie. Imagines Zeke can catch the thought on his face and feels sick.

"What have you been doing?" Zeke asks.

"You look like you got a nine to five." Ra says jokingly. As if he isn't wearing the same now crumpled clothes from yesterday.

"Sure." he says. 

"I, uh, go to Yale now." Zeke says, a little shy, scratches the back of his neck. "Mylene's out in LA filming some musical. It's good."

Mylene looks like a proud mama bear at the mention of Yale.

It's getting dark now, the street lamps are on. 

He nods distractedly. 

"So what kinda nine to five?" Mylene asks, eyebrows raising, blatantly challenging him on his lie. 

Back in the day as Shaolin he might have told Mylene to go fuck herself. He just feels too tired though. Feels out of place, like he doesn't deserve to be around these people. Probably the way Mylene has felt about him all along.

"It doesn't matter Shao." Zeke says and chances a smile at him but it's thin. He still can't bring himself to look Zeke in the eyes. He sees though when Zeke throws Mylene a hard look and she doesn't say anything after that.

Everything is so awkward and everyone is looking at him. He hates being looked at, it makes his throat tight.

"Later." He says, nods to Boo's already falling face, "maybe I'll see you around."

They won't though, he knows he'll be more careful, go out of his way to avoid it.

"Wait!" Zeke says suddenly, stands up, "Let me walk with you. I'll walk you home."

He doesn't know why he says it and later when he thinks it over on the walk back he thinks it sounds fucking melodramatic and sniveling,

"I ain't got a home."

He leaves, heart thundering in his ears. He doesn't have to look to know that know one is chasing him. 

 

 

It's too dark when he gets back. The club is filling up. And he always avoids this part, doesn't want to be seen, so that he nearly forgot it existed. There's no choice but to go through. Previous acquaintances stare at him and it's only when he's across the club, making his way to the back so he can just get away that he sees her.

Mylene. 

Who must have known he would turn up here and came just so she could prove to herself that he's still a piece of shit.

She's got fury written across her face. 

It's about that time Annie sees him too. 

It's past night fall. Past his curfew. Annie grabs his arm and tightly drags him to the back bar where there's less gawkers. Mylene follows at a distance and she almost looks smug. 

He wishes Annie would just hit him like last time, instead of biting his split lip back open. 

Mylene sees and her mouth falls open, but what is she gonna do? Tell Zeke? Zeke doesn't care about him anymore, and even if he did, he already knows.

 

 

Now that it's been a while Curtis can admit to himself that Napoleon wasn't his fault. The boy hadn't come to try and save him. Annie didn't take him because she knew. 

She hadn't even remembered they knew each other. It was only as she was wiping blood off her hands that she'd said his name, mockingly, and Curtis had promised her everything, _anything_. She'd kicked him over the way she'd come and he'd scrambled forward until he was in the next room, until he was in sticky blood. 

The boy was already dead.

Annie had leaned down, whispered in his ear _I already own everything you got to give_.

It's true, he doesn't have anything left.

 

 

Zeke catches him alone on the street. Tries to casually walk up to him. Curtis will deny he's been wandering around because that would mean he was hoping to see him, to be seen by him or one of the others. He wouldn't be out, only he had the thought that maybe Mylene would tell Zeke and Zeke would show up at the club for some reason and _see_. Knowing and seeing are two different things.

Zeke stares openly at Curtis' split lip and swallows hard. Shame curls in Curtis' gut, he still has trouble looking directly at him.

"Hey Shao" he says low, like he's trying to tame a cat.

Neither of them speaks for a moment. A man jostles past them.

"I saw the pictures." Zeke says. "You know, the ones of the boy."

"I ain't do those." he denies. Thinks, _I don't know what you're talking about_  or even _what boy?_ probably would have been better.

"Shao. You know the first piece you ever did? A bright yellow firework, white at the edges and Shao splashed in purple across the middle? I must have been in eighth grade."

He doesn't know how Zeke knows that, doesn't remember telling him.

"We watched you for years. Speculated on every piece you ever painted," Zeke gets up close to him then, starts talking soft, "You think I wouldn't recognize you? You ain't gotta sign it for me to know."

The words strike Curtis dumb. It's a moment before he can put a response together.

"I ain't do those." he may as well be stuck on repeat.

"Can we just - can we talk?"

It's a bad idea. 

" _Please_ Curtis, just look at me." Zeke all but begs.

Maybe it's the way he says please, or the fact that he uses his name - and he hates that name there, that horrible name in Zeke's mouth, and he never should have told him - but he finds himself looking up, looking in his eyes.

It's always been difficult for him, not to give Zeke what he wants.

He nods.

 

 

They end up in the ruins of some rubble filled lot. 

"I made a lot of mistakes." Zeke starts, but there isn't any mistakes he's made that Curtis can think of. "I think about you Shao." 

Zeke turns his face away like he's embarrassed.

"A lot." is what he ends with.

"I don't know what you want from me." It seems important to say it. Curtis doesn't know, doesn't understand. 

His bluntness seems to stun Zeke for a second or two.

"I-I wanna say I'm sorry. I know I said some shit and maybe it was true, or part of it. But I left - right when you were - "

Zeke cuts himself off. 

It's not as if he didn't know Zeke meant what he said - about him being broken, not knowing how to look after anyone but himself, believing in fairy tales. It still makes his chest tighten to hear. 

It's then that maybe Curtis gets what this is about for Zeke. He's a good kid, always been good and it probably kills him to have something like this between himself and another person. He's looking for absolution.

Curtis can give him that at least.

"Look man," he starts strong, puffs his chest out to channel Shaolin better, "don't bother, you was right. No hard feelings."

He thinks Zeke side eyes him for a moment before he realizes he isn't being sarcastic. Then something like devastation breaks across his face.

It's that look, that Curtis can't _handle_.

He gets up to leave. Zeke stands too, a little frantically.

"I wasn't right. I was - vindictive, angry, hurt. I was wrong. And you -" Zeke switches tracks, gets it out fast like he's afraid he won't have another chance "I'm so proud of you, you know. For not going back to Annie. I recognize Shao, how hard that must have been. How much strength it had to have took. I wasn't there, we all weren't, and we should have been."

He stands there, frozen, as Zeke encloses him in an awkward hug. Zeke's being careful not to get too close, their bodies barely touch. As if Zeke unconsciously knows how dirty Curtis is and is guarding himself against it.

He wishes Mylene would have told Zeke after all.

 

 

Mylene's at Les Inferno the next night. He only knows because someone informs Annie a disco superstar is there and they pal up, and somehow it gets around to Annie calling for him. He hates the club, hates being seen. And he hates Mylene.

Annie is laughing loudly as she waves him over and Mylene is fluttering her eyelashes.

"Ain't he a doll?" Annie says. 

"For sure, he's cute." Mylene gushes.

He doesn't know what her game is. Finds he doesn't care. It's exhausting always trying to find out the ways people are going to hurt him, and it never stops them anyway.

"So," Mylene continues, "you wouldn't mind if I use him?"

"Girl, I can get you a man. But this boy - he's mine." Annie slaps his bottom and forces him to sit beside her. Between them.

Humiliation and shame war on his face when she begins touching him.

"This boy can go for hours." 

He hates every word that comes out of her mouth, hates that Mylene is a witness to it because it's one step removed from Zeke. The filth pours from her.

"Once he gets it up, girl, he can't get it down. Not no more, my little sugar must be growing up. Little marathon fucker."

It's almost a relief when Annie macks on him, asks him if he wants to take it to the bedroom.

It's a perverse thing to be grateful for, but he's used to that. But as she's hustling him out of the booth Mylene speaks up.

"He looks like a player." Mylene says, because she ruins everything, "How many girls he been with?"

"Just me." Annie says, suddenly suspicious "I'm the jealous type."

Thankfully, Annie doesn't mention Ezekiel. And Curtis will never understand why she thinks _that_ \- when it's apparent that Ezekiel could never want him. 

"You want a man or naw?" Annie asks Mylene without humor.

"I don't want no man." Mylene says, "I like 'em young."

Something in her words, or her expression maybe, put Annie at ease.

"You and me both." She says, "this one's getting a little old but he's grown on me. Can't waste all that time it took to break him in."

Break him in and break him down. Break him to pieces.

He's hustled back out then, while Annie and Mylene talk.

He would have rather had Annie spend the night with him than expose his weakness and shame to _Mylene_.

 

 

He doesn't plan on saying goodbye to Zeke before he goes back to school. Tries not to think that he won't see him - not ever again - because the blatant fact hurts too much.

It's probably around then that everything goes to hell.

 

 

"You _still_ fucking dealing?" Ezekiel says and gets up in Curtis' space, shoves at his chest with strong hands, "I should've fucking knew it."

" _Wait!_ Zeke just wait!" Mylene is screaming, trying to get between them. She's facing the wrong way though, towards Zeke like she's trying to shield _Curtis_.

They're in an alleyway and none of the passersby see or hear anything, or if they do they mind their own.

"You never were nothing and you ain't never gonna be nothing!" Spittle flies from Zeke's mouth and lands on his face.

It hurts. A lot. And time has done nothing to dull the pain Ezekiel's able to coax from him.

He isn't going to cry in front of Zeke. That's one thing he's never done, and never going to do.

"yeah." he just says. 

But it's Zeke who starts crying.

"W-hy the fuck would you go back?" he's not looking at Curtis, his grip on Curtis' collar has let up and he's scrubbing his eyes, trying to get himself under control. Mylene is tentatively reaching out to comfort him, looks guilty. She backs off of them. 

Looking at Zeke, and Curtis always imagined how it would have been different if he'd just had a chance to _explain_ \- he realizes he can't tell him shit. The shadows inside him are too large.

Curtis shrugs.

"She's not family. I know I screwed up but Shao - Annie doesn't fucking care about you." Zeke says, tears abated. "Just... come back with me. Get out of the Bronx."

The change startles Curtis, the switch from anger to concern. The _offer_. If he's being honest, Zeke had always been finding ways to startle Curtis from the first time they'd met. And his words - it's not a foreign feeling - Curtis wants them _so bad_.

"I can't."

The Kipling brothers are still in the Bronx and Curtis doesn't underestimate Annie's ingenuity in being able to find Zeke. It's a lost cause.

Zeke reaches for him, face suddenly twisting into that heartbreaking anger, " _Why the fuck not?_ " 

When Zeke gets his hands on him he drags him forward. Kisses him in a hard aggressive press of mouth on mouth.

"Zeke, _stop!_ " Mylene yells and pulls him off of Curtis.

Zeke's back on him in a second though and he knocks into him so hard they both end up pressed jarringly against the side of the brick building.

Curtis doesn't know what to make of it. Zeke's hands are all over him, burning paths everywhere, but that's the only part he can truthfully say he doesn't like.

" _Stop!_ " Mylene yells again and this time when she tugs Zeke off he stays off.

Curtis thinks Mylene is going to slap him. Thinks she probably has one in store for Zeke too. Only instead she _hugs_ him.

"I can't." Curtis says again, blankly. Praying they don't make him say it again. He doesn't know if he can.

"You tell him or I will." Mylene says as she's pulling back.

"Tell him what?" he asks dumbly. He's too stricken to follow her line of thought.

"About Annie and - all that." 

"He already knows." He says, dazedly. Because Zeke does already know.

"He doesn't know." Mylene shoots back, voice soft.

"Know what?" Zeke asks in a firm tone.

"Annie, she- " Mylene stops herself, switches tracks, addresses Curtis instead of Zeke, "She told me all about how she got you back Shaolin. She _bragged_ about it."

It hadn't crossed his mind that she was talking about _that_. Curtis feels his whole body go stiff at once.

"It's none of his business." He says. 

"Tell me Shao." Zeke says, steel in his voice, putting a stop to any back and forth between Curtis and Mylene.

"It's none of your business." He reiterates.

He's not sure it's in him. To tear all of this down - Zeke's words and actions and how he miraculously _cares_. He knows he should, should spit poison because it's what he does best until Zeke backs off and forgets he ever gave a fuck about him.

He's tired now though, has been for a long while, and even if he tells Zeke is it really going to change anything?

"Shao." Zeke says, low in his throat like a warning, crowds into his space.

Still, he can't do it.

"She said she would kill all of the Get Down Brothers, starting with you, if Shao didn't come back with her." Mylene finally says.

The stunned pain on Zeke's face makes Curtis' chest hurt. 

"Look," Curtis says quietly, the least he can do is damage control, "it's just the way it is. If it weren't any of you, she would have found some other way. She's always gonna find a way."

Zeke tries to say his old name and chokes on it.

"He isn't pushing drugs Zeke." Mylene says. Curtis isn't sure why she says it. It's an aside - and one that might carry favor with Zeke - but it couldn't matter less.

"But - then why - what does she need you for if you're not pushing drugs?" The total confusion in Zeke's face catches Curtis off guard.

It smarts. That Zeke is trying to make him say it even though he _knows_ already.

"You know." Curtis shrugs.

"I don't know." Zeke spits back obtusely. Gets hard and aggressive. "Tell me."

He can't say it. Will probably never be able to say it, least of all to Ezekiel.

"Mylene," he says instead, channels the ghost of Shaolin, "Get your boyfriend the fuck out of here." 

"We're not dating anymore." She says with an expression so much like pity that Curtis just wants to cry.

"I-I can't do this." He says and walks away. Zeke grabs at him but then Mylene is grabbing at Zeke, making him let go.

It's only a block before he needs to stop for a minute, to calm the shakiness running through him.

Curtis, for a second, feels proud of himself. Zeke had told him he never knew how to take care of anyone but himself, but he's been doing a good job of keeping Annie's devastating hands from any of them.

 

 

Zeke catches up to him on the next block. There's new tears on his face. 

" _Shao._ " He says, so much emotion in the word.

 When he grabs his arm Curtis shakes him off.

" _Curtis._ " 

"What?" he spits out, "what the fuck do you want Ezekiel?"

It's meant as a distraction while Curtis calms himself down. He can hardly believe Ezekiel's come after him, it makes him feel panicked, like he's been backed into a corner.

Zeke though, looks solemn, and he takes a moment to quietly gather his thoughts and then he answers.

"I want you to be safe and I want you to be happy. I want you to be able to look at me. I want you to call me Books. I want you to smile and laugh. I want fucking everything good there is in the world for you. That's what I want. I want you."

Curtis finds there's nothing he can say to that. 

Not even his own parents wanted that for him.

Then he reminds himself he doesn't believe in fairy tales anymore.

"Napoleon's dead."

Zeke's face falls a little more.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Life isn't a fairy tale Zeke. You were right about that. I-" Curtis takes a breath, braces himself, "I'm broke. There ain't nothing that can fix me. Stop wasting your time."

"I'm not." 

There's something different when Zeke says it. The boy is gone and a man stands in his place. His tears have slowed to a stop and his eyebrows are set with determination, his expression is hard.

"Any moment I spend with you isn't a waste. I keep making mistakes with you, I know that. I have a hot temper. Every time I think - well, you prove me wrong. Every time Shao."

His heart and probably his face fall at 'you prove me wrong'. Zeke notices, and he closes in on him and brings a hand to the side of his face.

"I ain't mean it like that." Zeke whispers. "I tell you I don't believe in magic and you make fucking flowers. I love you. I'm in love with you."

Something comes over Curtis then, and he bursts into tears. Hates himself for it, like he always does.

Zeke's arms are around him then and somehow it quiets the vicious self hate inside him. Zeke's leading them somewhere presumably less public. He sits Curtis down on a fire escape.

"Mylene told me about Annie." Zeke says cautiously, with an arm curled around Curtis' shoulders. "I didn't know."

Curtis presses the heel of his hands hard into his eyes. Tries to stop the tears. 

"shh." Zeke whispers lowly in his ear, gently tugs Shao's hands down. "You thought I knew Shao?"

Curtis just nods. He feels unable to do anything else but soak up whatever Zeke is giving him. He leans tiredly into him and Zeke let's him.

"I always...I always thought it was different than it really was. To me, right from the start, you were larger than life. Untouchable. I thought...and you were-" here Zeke chokes up, "you were out on the street, homeless and I knew that but it just didn't hit me. Not what it really meant. Of course you didn't have no one. You made it look so good you know, you hid it so well. I thought dealing drugs was a choice. But it never was, was it? Just like being with Annie wasn't a choice. And - she, fuck, she was abusing you. R-raping you and I just - and still you came home to us and you - you acted like you were okay. Because you needed us right? And then we all just fucking left. And what you did wasn't right either but you couldn't fucking know that. Know better, do better right? But you didn't know. We left right when you were learning. You didn't fucking have no one like we did. Didn't have a good family but fucking monsters like Annie and Cadillac around you who took and took..."

Zeke trails off, holds Curtis tighter. Sniffles into his hair.

"You took care of us Shao, and we didn't even say thank you. You sacrificed yourself - sacrificed _everything_ \- and we didn't even know, didn't even spare you a backward glance. What kind of people do that?"

The sun is setting. He knows he'll have to make it back to Les Inferno soon.

He wants nothing more than to stay in the circle of Zeke's arms. 

 

Zeke tilts his head back and kisses him softly. When he pulls back he runs his thumb along the split in Curtis' lip.

"Know better, do better. I know better now Shao. I love you. I love you so much. That boy on the wall, I wanna take care of him."

He shifts uncomfortably. Zeke can't really mean it.

"What would the Jackson five think?" he asks, to get Zeke's head out of the clouds.

"Dizzee and his boyfriend? That was Boo's crazy fucking news. But you knew about Rumi and Thor already. I don't care what people think. Don't go back. We'll figure it out. Come with me. Say yes."

It takes a lot of courage, but Shao does it.

"Yes."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
